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Lana…
“Harder,” the girl says, her eyes onCatch.
Blaze steps forth and smacks her with the black leather crop. Right across the ass, both cheeks; leaving another pink mark alongside the others and making the girl buck and gasp in pleasure-pain. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. Shesmiles.
She smiles at Catch, and the room does an ugly spin-out.
He shuts his eyes, hard, black holes imploding behind his eyelids. Needing to escape this place. The cube, so dank yet vibrant; close and hot; stifling and cool. Large, then small. There’s not enough room. He’s so high, his eyes roll in his head when he scrapes them open. It’s the Pull or the Zag or the Exotica, he doesn’t know which. Which pill was the one that put it over thetop.
“Do you likeher?”
He realizes Blaze has asked him a question, that it’s dangling in the air between them, but it could’ve been ten minutes ago. His tone is absent, his focus on the girl—the girl whose sharp, dark eyes are still focused onCatch.
And Catch can’t even compute thequestion.
Like.
Her.
What’s tolike?
What’s to like about any girl, no matter how pretty she looks in bondage, if she isn’t LanaMarsden?
Blaze looks over at him, cocking a coppery eyebrow when Catch doesn’t answer. He stands at the edge of the light, his pale, sculpted face pitted with shadow, twitching and vibrating like he’s not even real, just some viz model beaming out over a baddatastream.
It’s the Pull. It’s stretching everything out; the high, the need, the hours. Making everything else unreal. How long has it been since he entered this room? Half an hour? Half thenight?
He can’t unscramble the time inside hisskull.
“I think he’s tripping out,” the girl says, laughter behind her words, but she doesn’t laugh. It’s hollow-echo-quiet in his head as Blaze frowns and strikes her again, the snap of the crop-whip against naked flesh too crisp, tooloud.
The girl winces and Blaze says, “Shh.” He runs his hand, gently, over the marks on her backside, and when she looks up at him, finally… the naked devotion, raw and tender, stillfresh, so like the way Lana used to look at Catch… he feels bile rise up from deep in hisstomach.
He swallows itdown.
But he can’t seem to move as he sits here on the edge of the couch, his entire body tense but immobile, disconnected from histhoughts.
Because she does remind him ofLana.
Everythingdoes.
Natalie. That’s her name. Or something with anN…?
He doesn’t remember her rank any more than he remembers her name. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care if this is a violation of the Code of Conduct, if it’s a giantFuck youto the Fraternization Policy, if the girl shouldn’t be here at all, in an officer’s cube late at night, in bondage, about to get fucked six ways fromSunday.
He doesn’t care about any of itanymore.
The girl meets his eyes again, her pupils dilated with arousal, her mouth open. Getting off on the crop, on Blaze’s familiar attention, so focused on her, mellow and hot. But getting off on Catch, too; on his rising discomfort as he watches her there… helpless but nothelpless.
What the fuck is he doinghere?
Blaze invited him. Brought him here, let him in, bound the girl while he watched. Because he wants Catch to watch, tosee.
Toparticipate?
But this is not Catch’sscene.
Take him, or I’ll whip you myself and let himwatch.
